


artificial nocturne

by SyntheticRevenge



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Obi-Wan Kenobi, I'm using regular curses because Obi-Wan Kenobi deserves to say fuck, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mad Prophet Maul, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, i'm gonna save anakin skywalker and neither god nor man can stop me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyntheticRevenge/pseuds/SyntheticRevenge
Summary: Maul’s breath nearly catches at the sight: Kenobi’s hair and beard long and unkempt, eyes tired, hollow--gold-flecked? Maybe that’s the light, or maybe Maul’s Force-given burden showing him what’s to come.Maul laughs, softly. “So you understand, then. You know what it is to lose everything.”“I do,” Kenobi says, and his eyes are hateful and they say 'no thanks to you', “but unlike you, I’m not willing to let it stay lost.”(Maul gets revenge, Obi-Wan makes things right, and hopefully the Galaxy doesn't explode in the process)
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul
Comments: 13
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very intimidated to post Star Wars fic but also I was full-body possessed by Phantom Apprentice, I cannot get over the concept of Maul being a Force prophet no one believes or listens to, and I'm always obsessed with dark Obi, so this happened! Title's from a Metric song that I think fits this all pretty well.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Kenobi’s Force signature is still blazing warmth and lingering melancholy, and Maul doesn’t feel him coming until he’s in the room. He reaches into the guards’ minds and sends them away without a word, and stands before Maul, head bowed, hood covering his face.

Maul didn’t dream this. Didn’t sense it. Wasn’t at all prepared. His hand curls around his saber, resting on his leg.

“You,” Maul says, trying not to let any hint of surprise or anticipation show. “Why would  _ you _ be here?” He can hardly breathe, the shaky, childlike excitement and wonder of  _ Kenobi, here, in front of him, willingly _ .

Kenobi laughs, darkly, shaking his head without raising it. “Believe me,  _ Maul _ ,” he says, spitting his name like poison, “I wouldn’t be here if I had another option.”

“You need me, then,” Maul says, unable to keep a satisfied smirk off his lips. “Why, in the name of our  _ beloved _ Force, would a  _ Jedi _ need  _ me _ ?”

“Don’t mistake me for a Jedi,” Kenobi says, softly--angrily? “Not anymore.”

“I suppose being the last of your kind lost its novelty quickly, then?” Maul can’t wipe the smirk away, and why should he? This is perfect. The man he’s dreamed of killing for two restless decades at his feet, broken.

“You would know,” Kenobi says, lifting his chin and pulling his hood off. Maul’s breath nearly catches at the sight. Kenobi’s hair and beard long and unkempt, eyes tired, hollow--gold-flecked? Maybe that’s the light, or maybe Maul’s Force-given burden showing him what’s to come.

Maul laughs, softly. “So you understand, then. You know what it is to lose  _ everything _ .”

“I do,” Kenobi says, and his eyes are hateful and they say  _ no thanks to you _ , “but unlike you, I’m not willing to let it stay lost.”   


“So you want a fight, then,” Maul says, leaning back and spreading his arms. “Crimson Dawn aren’t mercenaries. We don’t fight for lost causes. You won’t win anyone over to the light around here.”

“I’m not here for Crimson Dawn,” Kenobi says, rolling his eyes, shaking his head, sighing, like Maul’s an idiot child.  _ I struck your master down,  _ the darkness inside Maul spits,  _ and you dare speak to me like the gullible monster you raised?  _

“What, then,” Maul says, and he can’t keep the irritation out of his tone. “I’m not one for games, Kenobi, tell me why you’re here, or I’ll be more than happy to...escort you out.”

Kenobi laughs, a genuine one this time. “I respect your persistence, Maul, truly.”

“The point, Kenobi.”

“I’m here for you. I hear--I hear you have...a clear vision, shall we say,” Kenobi says, smirking and cocking his head, something flickering in his eyes.  _ The return of the Negotiator _ . 

“No games. Speak plainly.”

“They say you see the future,” Kenobi says, and he can’t seem to look at Maul again. “Clearly. Perfectly.”

“If only anyone had listened,” Maul says, almost sings, laughing a dark laugh in the back of his throat. “He was  _ your _ apprentice, was he not?”

“Don’t,” Kenobi says, and the Force wraps itself around Maul’s throat. A thread. Kenobi doesn’t tighten it, but Maul feels it there, ready to close in. 

“No Jedi indeed,” Maul says. He beams at Kenobi. Thinks about the young man on Naboo that was the only thing frozen in his memory for so long, that Force signature--controlled burn blazing into a forest fire, scalding, searing, melting heat. Something with otherworldly power. 

“There’s something I have to do, and I’d like--clarity,” Kenobi says. “To know where my actions will take me. Can you do that?”

Maul hums. “I’m sure I’ll foresee it whether I want to or not--the question is whether you’ll want to believe it.”

“I don’t have much choice,” Kenobi says. The thread around Maul’s neck unties, no longer ready to garrote him. 

“And what do you have to offer me in return?” Maul asks, crossing his arms, lifting his chin, smirking again. 

“My services, however you see fit to use them,” Kenobi says, coldly, eyes on the ground again. 

“What use do I have for a hollowed-out husk of a former Jedi when I have the Syndicates on my side?” Maul asks. He can think of several uses, but he wants to make Kenobi  _ beg _ . 

He wishes he’d begged on Mandalore. He’d imagined it differently.  _ Maul, please, don’t kill her, I’ll do anything _ . Sobbing at Maul’s feet, until Maul killed her anyway, and then that volcano of a man would’ve erupted, that stunning anger, and Maul would have killed him in battle and been proud of it.

But, no, the Jedi are just as fucking cold as the Sith. He held himself together far too admirably. 

“I may be hollowed-out, but you know as well as I do that I’m much,  _ much _ better than the mercenary scum you call a Syndicate,” Kenobi says, lips twisting in amusement or disgust or perhaps both. “So don’t fuck around.”

“Fine,” Maul says, sighing heavily through his nose. Kenobi can’t let him have  _ anything _ . Doesn’t mean Maul can’t play games. “You’re right. I do have a use for you that I have for no one else.” He leans forward in his--not a throne, really, but it might as well be. He wanted it to be. Leans his elbows on his knees. Smirks in Kenobi’s face. “On your knees.”

Kenobi meets Maul’s eyes, looking unfazed, impassive.  _ The Jedi way _ . “I thought you said no games, Maul.”

Maul cocks his head, breathes down Kenobi’s neck, then leans back. “I would like to kill Sidious. Palpatine. The Emperor.  _ Sheev _ . Whatever the fuck he calls himself.”

“Believe me, my fr--” Kenobi chokes on the easy comradery of the Negotiator, scoffs. “I want that as well.”

“So what do you need  _ foretold _ ?” Maul asks, crossing his arms. “In exchange for killing the most powerful man in the Galaxy?”

“I fear one prophecy won’t cut it,” Kenobi says. “I don’t come cheap, but I promise you, I’m worth it.”

“ _ He _ can’t be saved, Kenobi.” Kenobi stiffens at those words, eyes blazing, but he controls himself. “You must know that. Once you let the darkness in…” Maul laughs, spreading his arms. “The chains are the easy part. It’s what’s in here that’s hard.” He taps his temple with his saber.

“You only want to kill Sidious,  _ he  _ isn’t your concern,” Kenobi says, and Maul can hear the anger he’s biting back in every word.

“At least do him the courtesy of calling him by the name he’s chosen, if you  _ love _ him so much,” Maul says, and he feels Kenobi’s rage flash in the Force between them, that thread coiling around his neck again, digging in this time, sharp and white-hot.

“Don’t speak to me about him, and I won’t speak to you about Savage,” Kenobi says, tone light, and Maul feels his own rage flash. “Or Mother Talzin. Or--Feral? Was that his name?”

“You have a trail of bodies as well,” Maul chokes.

Kenobi’s grip releases. “Let’s leave them all buried, then, shall we.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan Kenobi and the terrible horrible no-good very bad life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may notice in this one, my main canon divergence is how Mustafar went down, so I promise I did that on purpose lol

Obi-Wan hates it in Maul’s apartments, but Maul  _ insisted _ he not stay anywhere else.  _ Keep your enemies close, and your enemies’ enemies closer _ , he’d said, that melodic, low voice, as if it were a saying, as if it made sense. Fuck him for having such a sexy voice, or maybe Obi-Wan’s just desperate without Cody, without Ventress, without any of the few comforts he’d been allowed in the Order.

The room Maul’s given him is sparse. It almost reminds him of his room on Coruscant, but with a view he’s sure anyone would kill for. Crimson Dawn headquarters are currently on Tatooine, which is how Obi-Wan even got the courage to carry out this stupid fucking plan (that and the better part of a bottle of toxic Mos Eisley moonshine), but from this height, the planet almost looks beautiful. Calm. Not a wasteland, or a prison, or the place Obi-Wan Kenobi came to die. 

The bed, though, is comfortable, so comfortable that Obi-Wan swears when he sinks into the mattress. He has to hand it to Maul, the man really did learn from his decade-long stay among trash. Obi-Wan legitimately does not ever want to move again, but he’s still clothed, and blindingly, dreadfully sober.

So he picks himself back up, slowly makes his way back out to the main room, where Maul has an entire  _ bar _ . Obi-Wan’s considering picking up a life of crime full-time, if it leads to  _ this _ . Anakin would be happy to join him in that pursuit, he’s sure.

_ If there’s still any of him left. If he doesn’t kill you. If Maul doesn’t put his lightsaber through your solar plexus. If there’s still any of  _ you _ left.  _

Ah, the endless stream of happy thoughts that never leaves him. He chooses the nicest Corellian whiskey he can find, and pours himself a respectable amount. Pretends, for a moment, that he’s back on Coruscant. Fuck, why limit himself? He imagines Mandalore, long ago, him and Satine in hiding from the civil war and from Qui-Gon, tangled together, drinking on the balcony of some shitty motel.

He’s relaxing too much. He reminds himself where he is, throws back the whiskey, and goes for more.  _ Where to now, you demented, washed-up, middle-aged piece of shit? _

Coruscanti sunset, him and Qui-Gon at the temple after a diplomatic mission, Qui-Gon furtively passing him a flask. Him hanging on every single one of his master’s words, his scent, his eyes, his passion. The things Obi-Wan made himself believe so he could win arguments about having the  _ weird _ master. 

Another round. Obi-Wan watches the twin suns go down through one of Maul’s floor-to-ceiling viewports.  _ Oh, don’t stop now, keep thinking about how _ good  _ things used to be _ .

Ryloth. Cody desperately pretending to be sober when Obi-Wan called him in for a private meeting after a battle. The look in his eyes when Obi-Wan pushed him against a wall and bit into him, the ‘general--?’, the shock and wonder and pleasure hanging in the Force between them.

Obi-Wan pours himself another drink as the pleasant memories start to burn away. _ Qui-Gon and Satine died at your feet and you’re getting drunk in the home of the man who killed them. Why. What’s worth this. And don’t say  _ him _. We both know this isn’t  _ for _ him. _

He presses a hand to his forehead, trying to will the nagging fucking voice away, whatever, whoever it is. Maybe it’s all that’s left of the man he was. Maybe it’s the darkness in him. He doesn’t really care what it is, all that much. His curiosity’s gone. He foregoes the glass he was using, sits down on what must be a fainting couch, and drinks straight from the bottle.

“I see you’ve retained all of your courtly class,” comes that soft, serpentine voice, and a low chuckle. 

“Laugh all you want,” Obi-Wan says, sighing. “I know how it looks.”

Maul sits next to him, pulls the bottle from his hand with the Force, and drinks, staring out at the desert. His Force signature is, as always, too cloudy to read clearly. A dark, impenetrable fog.

“You’re too broken, Kenobi,” Maul sighs. “I’m hardly going to enjoy this at all.”

“I’m sorry my mental state is inconveniencing you, my lord,” Obi-Wan says, nearly purrs the end. Might as well have a little fun.

“I’m no Sith lord, as you’re no Jedi,” Maul says, anger flashing quickly through him. “Don’t treat me as such.”

“Very well.” Obi-Wan pulls the bottle back from Maul, closes his eyes, and drinks as deeply as he can. 

“You really think you can save him?” Maul asks, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I told you not to mention him, and I  _ did _ mean it,” Obi-Wan says, irritation flashing through him.  _ Then do something about it. Reach out. Crush his windpipe. Throw him through the window. _

Maul sighs. “You’re no fun.”

“Would you like me to perform a contortionist act?” Obi-Wan asks, rolling his eyes.

“I was unaware that was an option,” Maul says, smirking, gold eyes flashing with amusement. “I  _ would _ love to see you bend as violently as your morals.”

Obi-Wan snorts, humorlessly. “Oh, trust me, you’ve not seen anything yet.”

Maul hums. “I look forward to it, though.”

Maul’s close. Too close. Energy hums like a lightsaber in the space between them, those decades of resentment and hatred clashing with Obi-Wan’s extreme indifference. But the indifference was always an act, and Maul  _ must _ know that. Must know he’s haunted Obi-Wan’s dreams ever since he cut Qui-Gon down.

Obi-Wan’s fist clenches thinking about the sleepless nights spent thinking about those  _ eyes _ . Those eyes, somewhere in the darkness, like a hungry animal, waiting to tear him away from the things he loves most. Maybe Obi-Wan’s a prophet, too.

“How do your visions work?” Obi-Wan hears himself ask. So maybe his curiosity isn’t altogether as dead as he thought. 

Maul cocks his head in thought, grunting like an animal. “I’m the Force’s least favorite son, and she’s punished my transgressions by forcing me to watch--a holovid no one’s seen yet. The twists are all so strange that no one believes them until they see them.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very tortured, it’s all quite tragic,” Obi-Wan says, waving his hand. “But how does it  _ work _ .”

“How does any curse work?” Maul shrugs, leans back. “I’m plagued by the truth. Every night, my dreams show me part of it.”

“How much do you see?” Obi-Wan asks, and Maul laughs. 

“Do you mean to ask if I saw you on Mustafar?” he asks, voice the low, dangerous purr of a wildcat. “Running away from your failures?”

“Stop,” Obi-Wan says, shaking his head, gripping the edge of the couch.  _ Anakin’s eyes, gold, yes, but wide, shocked, staring first at Obi-Wan’s face, then at the lightsaber through his chest. The eyes of that ten-year-old on Tatooine, still capable of wonder and surprise, surprised and wondering how his master could’ve done this to him. _

“Working with you troubles me, Kenobi. You only deal in half-measures. You never finish the job.” 

Obi-Wan doesn’t mean to call his lightsaber to his hand, but it’s there and ignited in a flash, humming against Maul’s neck. “If you think I deal in half-measures, you must not see  _ everything _ .”

Maul smiles, eyes glinting. “You couldn’t kill  _ me _ . You couldn’t kill  _ him _ . You leave a trail of mutilated monsters,  _ Master _ Kenobi.”

_ Kill him. Kill him kill him kill him, you coward, kill him, shut him up forever, you’ll die at Anakin’s hands with or without Maul and his insane visions. He’s taken so  _ much _ from you. _

Obi-Wan deactivates his lightsaber, breathing heavily. “I won’t ever make that mistake again, believe me. Certainly not with Sidious.” 

_ Go on, tell him about the dreams where you turn back time to before it was too late. Tell him how you choke Palpatine until he’s barely conscious and then you cut his tongue out, then his limbs off, slowly, painfully, one-by-one, and then his eyes. Maul will think you’re as mad as him. Maybe you are.  _

“You hate him?” Maul asks, smirking. 

“He took just as much from me as you,” Obi-Wan says. “Maybe more.” All the whiskey’s starting to leech into his bloodstream, and he shakes his head gently to clear it. 

_ You fucking drunk. You weak old man. _

“The Jedi Order was no great loss, I think,” Maul says, clearly amused, voice dancing, and Obi-Wan knows that should make him angry, but he can’t help an undignified snort from escaping him.

“The Order, no,” Obi-Wan says. “The Jedi themselves--there were good people among us. Their loss was incalculable. I...wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I always admired your master.” Maul looks at Obi-Wan, and his eyes almost soften. “He didn’t play by the foolish code of rules  _ you _ clung to.”

“Well, I had to cling to that ‘foolish code’ rather than his ideals because, I’m not sure if you know this, someone killed him,” Obi-Wan says, raising his eyebrows.

_ You can joke about this? The loss of everyone you ever knew? What kind of sick monster  _ are _ you? Come, now, old man. Your  _ family _. _

Maul seems entertained by this side of Obi-Wan, this ugly thing in him that’s waited his whole life to emerge. All it took to become his true self was losing everything. Who knew.

“Why fight the darkness, Kenobi?” Maul asks. “It suits you.”

_ If you lose yourself, you can’t save him. You can’t be a hypocrite with gold eyes begging him to come back to himself. Unless you want to join him. Is that your dream? Side by side again with the man you would’ve died for. Murdering innocents. My regards to the happy couple. _

“Stars, shut up,” Obi-Wan mutters, hand over his ear before he can stop himself, like it makes any difference.

Maul laughs. “Hearing voices?”

“I’m done talking, Maul,” Obi-Wan says, tongue leaden, waving his hand dismissively.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m quite enjoying this.”

“Shouldn’t you be off to have one of your  _ visions _ ?” 

“In good time,” Maul says, a strange look in his eyes as he drags them down Obi-Wan’s body. Obi-Wan has the uncanny feeling of being scanned like a ship. “You could be  _ so _ incredible, Kenobi. Let me show you.”

“You want to be my master?” Obi-Wan asks, smirking incredulously. His stomach turns at the thought--or maybe that’s just the fact that he hasn’t eaten in a good day or more. He thinks, distantly, about how fucking funny it would be if he just vomited on Maul. He imagines the reaction he’d get from Anakin and Rex for that.

_ Anakin. Rex.  _ A stabbing pain in his heart. Every time.

“I do,” Maul says. “There’s  _ so _ much potential.”

“Yes, well, I’ll have to think about it,” Obi-Wan says, trying to fill his words so full of sarcasm they overflow and drip. “I think I’m going to retire to your  _ wildly _ comfortable mattress.”

“Sleep well,” Maul says, just as mockingly. Obi-Wan feels Maul’s eyes burning into him as he stands, putting all his effort into keeping composed. 

The second he reaches his room, he falls hard into the bed, strips slowly, clumsily, numb hands catching on his scars. He slips under the blankets ( _ silk _ , they didn’t have  _ those _ in the Jedi temple), closes his eyes, and desperately wishes for dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and as always, any and all feedback is appreciated immensely <3


End file.
